


Dependable

by HanginWithLilJ (FlyDizzeeD)



Series: Learning to Cope [12]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Crying, Eventual Fluff, Gen, Misunderstandings, Non-Sexual Age Play, Self-Worth Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-10
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-10-25 14:04:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17726621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlyDizzeeD/pseuds/HanginWithLilJ
Summary: Why is this so hard? The lads always just go for it. Even Geoff is way better about letting them know what's up and when he needs some down time. Why can't he be the same? Why can't he just ask? A blur of “why's” float around in his head but he can't really find an answer for any of them other than;He's scared.





	Dependable

Confidence. He needs to be confident. He can do this. Just get in there and tell Geoff.

Christ, Ryan does not want to tell Geoff.

Maybe Jack then? From where Ryan's standing in the hallway of the house, he can see Jack sitting on the living room couch. Alright. Jack. Jack's sweet. He's caring and funny and always understanding. Jack can help. All he has to do is tell Jack how he feels, and everything will be okay, because Jack knows what to do.

It's a shame his legs won't move. He's rooted to the floor, nailed down by unreasonable anxiety. There's nothing to be afraid of. Nothing to worry about. The others do this all the time and they never even ask, because it's fine. He's fine. Everything is fine and Ryan is fan-fucking-tastic. Calm, collected, confident. This is easy. Just a simple exchange of words and then it's all out of his hands. He can relax and stop feeling so lost, at least for a short while. His steps are quiet, hesitant, ready to switch to a bolt at any moment should he spook like some woodland creature.

Once he's actually in the living room, he's a bit stumped as to how to approach the situation. Be direct, right? He's trying to ignore how the thought of just walking up to Jack and announcing his situation is making him shake. Fuck. Doesn't help that he feels a bit creepy standing behind the couch like some weirdo. Ryan squeezes his eyes shut and takes a step to the left, then forward, ready to come around the couch and make his presence known, when his shin collides with the coffee table. He curses and flinches back, too caught up in the sudden pain to pay any attention to Jack's reaction. He draws his leg up and grabs his shin, bending over to curse up a storm. The motion throws off his balance, which was never great to begin with, and has him falling on his ass.

Ryan leans against the side of the couch, resigned. This is really where he's at now. This is the point he's reached in his life. He glances up to see Jack peeking over the arm of the couch with a worried look.

“You okay?”

“Nah. Nope. Pretty sure I'm gonna lose the leg. Can we afford an amputation?”

“Insurance should cover it.” Jack gets off the couch and moves to kneel in front of him. He hikes up the leg of Ryan's jeans, grimacing at the bruise already starting to form, a small cut in the middle of it. “Damn, Rye. That's gonna be a nasty one. Come on, get on the couch and I'll go grab an ice pack.”

He accepts the hands offered to him and tries his best to keep his weight off his leg as Jack pulls him up. Ryan takes Jack's spot on the couch, wincing as he props his leg up on the table. He's left slightly alone when Jack hustles off to the kitchen, but he's grateful that the somewhat open concept floor plan means he can at least still see the man. A very big and very little part of him does not want to be alone. That feeling makes him swallow hard on the new lump in his throat.

Thankfully Jack makes quick work of it, scrapes and bruises being so commonplace among the lot of them. He kneels in front of Ryan again, setting an ice pack and a washcloth on the table as he cleans the cut with a small antiseptic wipe.

“I'd put a band-aid on but that would just mean ripping your leg hair off later.” He jokes, smiling up at Ryan.

Ryan smiles back, pretending he's not a bit upset about not getting a band-aid like the others do whenever they get hurt.

“Thanks, Jack.”

“No problem. Gonna tell me why you were attempting to sneak around behind me? I could see your reflection in the TV.”

“That's admittedly a factor I didn't account for.” He scratches the back of his neck, avoiding eye contact. This is a good time to tell Jack what he needs. A great time. Just say the words god damn it.

“I couldn't tell if you had fallen asleep and I didn't wanna wake you if you were. I know you didn't sleep much last night since Gavin was having nightmares.”

Lies mixed in with truths to create an alternative to his actual reasoning. He wants to scream at himself. Might later. Jack chuckles and falls for it, having no reason not to believe him. The ice pack he gently presses against the worsening bruise is a welcome relief.

“That's sweet, Ryan. I'm fine though. I was actually about to go drag Geoff out of his office for lunch. The guys said they're heading home now. No luck finding Pokémon at the park today, apparently.”

“I can go get Geoff.”

“Nope. Stay right there and don't move that ice pack.”

“But-”

Jack runs fingers through his hair as he stands, which is a bit unfair, honestly, since he knows what that does to Ryan. He practically melts under the touch, a little noise pulled from his throat as he leans back on the couch.

“I'll be right back.”

He has to bite back a whine when the touch is taken away and Jack is gone. He doesn't want to be alone god damn it, why do people keep leaving him alone? His hands wind nervous fingers in his shirt, no doubt wrinkling the fabric as he twists and pulls at it. Why is this so hard? The lads always just go for it. Even Geoff is way better about letting them know what's up and when he needs some down time. Why can't he be the same? Why can't he just ask? A blur of “why's” float around in his head but he can't really find an answer for any of them other than;

He's scared.

It feels dumb just to have the thought. This shouldn't be scary. This is a part of him, albeit a new one. And he wants it. The stress is piling on him, as it so often does, and he wants to get away from that without going into the state he'd been in last time. He'd refused to talk about it then, deflecting all questions the next day when he was more lucid, but he's curious now.

His thoughts are interrupted by touch. Skilled fingers in his hair once more. He looks up and finds the arm of the hand heavily tattooed, his eyes travelling up and landing on Geoff's face.

“Hey Geoff.”

“Hey Rye. Heard you've been fighting the furniture.” He hits Ryan with that lazy grin of his, glancing at the ice pack.

“Yeah. I lost.”

“Ya gotta be careful, those Swedes know how to make one hell of a table.”

As he speaks, Geoff steps over Ryan's propped up leg and sits down. On Ryan. Straddling Ryan. He instinctively grabs the man's hips and blushes when Geoff kisses his nose.

“You're cuddly.”

“Exhausted, actually.” He sighs and flops forward, against Ryan's chest. Ryan fidgets a bit. “Gavin kicks when he has nightmares.”

He hums in understanding, but doesn't stop his squirming. Geoff pulls back enough to squint at him.

“You're squirmy.”

“Uh.” That's it. That's all he's got. Geoff snorts. Kisses him.

But part of him doesn't really like it. He doesn't respond to the kiss, or how Geoff's hands rub his sides. This doesn't feel right. This doesn't feel good.

“I don't want this.”

Instantly, the lips and hands are gone. Geoff is leaning away from him, looking worried.

“Shit. Sorry, Rye. Bad sensory day?”

No.

“Yeah.”

And suddenly all of the touch disappears. Geoff gets up from his lap and stretches, and Ryan is screaming on the inside. This doesn't feel good either. He wants to be touched. He wants to be held and paid attention to and he wants fingers running through his hair and soft voices guiding him through this scary new territory. His mouth overrides his brain.

“Do you wanna play?”

And what the fuck kind of question is that?

Geoff just looks confused now. Then sheepish.

“Oh. No, I'm good. I mean, I'm tired from the Gavin thing, but I don't think I'm gonna be small anytime soon. Thank you, though. For the offer.”

Fuck. Okay. Not what he meant, but okay. His world is just getting more complicated by the minute. The front door opens to interrupt the awkward exchange, the lads filing in.

“Do I smell cheese?” 

“I think that's just Gavin.”

“Jeremy!”

Michael and Jeremy laugh at Gavin's indignant squawk, closing the door behind them. Michael raises a brow at Ryan's leg.

“What happened there?”

“Ryan was attacked by the IKEA monster. It was brutal, but he made it out alive.”

He rolls his eyes and goes to retort when Jack calls them from the kitchen.

“Lunch!”

And they're gone. Ryan's left alone on the couch, just him and his ice pack. He sighs. This is normal. No reason to be upset. Jeremy is back a moment later, a plate in each hand and a smile on his face. He hands one plate to Ryan, then sits next to him, but not touching. The small distance is killing him. Geoff must have told the others he's having a bad sensory day. Damn his caring ways.

“Thanks. How was the park?”

He tears a piece of the toasted ham and cheese sandwich off, popping it in his mouth even though he's really not hungry. His appetite tends to waver when he's stressed.

“Didn't catch a thing, but it was fun anyway. Gavin almost fell in the pond.”

“Do I wanna know?”

“Probably not. How are you, Rye guy?”

A shrug.

“Same as usual. Glad you're home though.”

“Aw, Ryan, it's like you care about me. Be careful or people might start thinking we're…” Jeremy leans in close to whisper, “friends.”

The nonsense makes him laugh a bit, which is nice, and he bumps his shoulder into Jeremy's.

“What a crime that would be.”

“A felony, at least.”

And, fuck, Jeremy has that starry look in his eyes. The one little Jeremy gets seemingly every time he looks at Ryan, like he's all of the world at once. It flusters him even now to see that adoring look he's pretty sure he's never seen Jeremy give anyone else. He figures he should make some sort of move then.

“Can you go get your coloring stuff?”

Jeremy grins and he's gone before Ryan can blink, taking off down the hall and bounding up the stairs, ignoring Geoff's yells to stop running in his god damn house. His gaze lands back on his sandwich, but he can't bring himself to eat anymore of it. Fine. He can just be this for today. Take care of his boy, the usual. That's fine. He loves spending time with Jeremy, loves how focused the boy gets when he's coloring something specifically for Ryan, loves how shy he gets when Ryan compliments his art or calls him whatever pet name he's decided on today. Almost as soon as he's gone, Jeremy's back, carrying a small stack of coloring books and a plastic pencil case filled with what Ryan knows are crayons, markers, and colored pencils. A varied artist. He rejoins Ryan on the couch, still keeping some space between them.

“I got the dinosaur book, the space book, and the kitten book.”

“You also have half a sandwich left. Finish up and then we can get down to business.”

The nod he receives is dutiful, such a serious look contrasted by the fact Jeremy's setting down a stack of coloring books. He sighs when the boy nearly wolfs down the rest of the food so he can color sooner. He's barely swallowed the last bite when he excitedly announces that he's done.

“You're lucky so many of us know the heimlich and CPR for when you inevitably choke one day. Have you finished the orange cat yet?”

He hasn't, but he sets to work on it immediately. Ryan watches Jeremy color, the boy easily getting lost in his own world, his tongue sticking out as he carefully moves his marker on the page. Usually Ryan is content to just watch, but he feels… curious. It's certainly not out of the ordinary for him to color along with Jeremy, but that feeling in the back of his head makes him feel guilty as he flips open the space themed coloring book. By the time he finds an interesting picture, he's aware he's shaking slightly, and takes a few deep breaths. Jeremy doesn't seem to notice. He grabs a few crayons from the box and starts coloring.

From then, time passes slowly all too fast. Black background. This planet can be green. Should the spaceship be blue? Blue feels right. Maybe some red for the wings. He tunes out the world around them as he fills in spaces and painstakingly chooses colors. Nothing really registers until he presses a bit too hard and the purple crayon he's using snaps in half. Hardly does a beat go by before there's a hand putting a new purple crayon in his. He looks up to see Jeremy offering the crayon.

“Here. Yours is broke.”

“Thank you.”

“I finished the kitten. Wanna see?”

“Yeah.”

Sure enough, when Jeremy shows him the page, the orange kitten is fully colored and surrounded by multi-colored balls of yarn, all with clear patterns and color palettes. He looks down at his own drawing and frowns when he actually looks it over. Some of it is colored neatly, but other parts are outside the lines and messy from where he got lost in the motions of just moving the crayon around. There's a purple smudge where the crayon broke.

“Yours is good, too.”

His head snaps back up at the compliment. It's weird hearing Jeremy praise his artwork instead of the other way around, but the simple words make him want to smile and cry and bask in the warmth all at once.

“Thanks.”

But the moment is gone in a flash. Jeremy shoves his thumb in his mouth and looks at Ryan with those big eyes, slurring around his thumb, “Can I have a drink?”

“Uh. Yeah. Sure. Let me just,” he sets the book aside and stands up, wincing a bit at the pain in his leg, “I'll be right back.”

“Kay.”

The guys have mostly dispersed throughout the house, but Geoff is still in the kitchen when Ryan walks in. He barely glances at Ryan before asking “What's wrong?”

“My leg-”

“Not that, dumbass. Something's wrong. What's up?”

He doesn't know why he lies. Just knows that he does.

“I've been a bit behind on work stuff since we got back. Just trying to play catch up without working myself into the ground, y'know?” As he talks, he pulls out a sippy cup from the cabinet and orange juice from the fridge. His hands shake as he pours and he hopes Geoff doesn't notice.

“Do you need to talk to Trevor?”

“Nah. I think I can figure it out tomorrow.”

“Alright. But talk to him if you need to. There's no need to act all independent and shit when you've got help, Haywood.”

“You got it, Ramsey.”

After a moment, he opens his mouth to talk again, but he can't quite get the words out, so he just bites his lip and goes back to screwing the lid onto the cup. Geoff still looks worried and the weight of that gaze is crushing him.

“You sure that's all?”

“Yeah. Well. There's uh…” He trails off, unsure exactly what he wants to say. Needs to say. For the hundredth time today, he wonders why this is so hard. Figures it might have to do with his pride or something. Geoff is patient, thankfully, and lets him think it over before he finishes his thought.

“What's it like?”

The older man tilts his head. “What's what like?”

“Being small. What's it like?”

Geoff blushes a bit. Ryan feels bad for asking, knows it isn't really his business, but his curiosity is prevailing.

“It's… easy. It was hard at first, yeah, but it's easy now. Things are simpler. Even when everything is too much, and I'm making you and Jack's lives hell with all my crying-”

“Which we don't mind because we love you.”

“Which you don't mind because you're both big gays and you love me. Even then, it's easier, I guess. Because I've got you guys, and you've got me, and it's one of the only times where I'm not the one in charge. I love work. You know that. The world knows that. I probably love it way too much, but it's my passion. But even I get tired of it sometimes. So it's nice to have something easy and simple to fall back on. It's nice to have all of you.”

By the end of it, Geoff is speaking a bit quieter, looking away from him. Ryan's always known him to be very open in his affections, but he imagines this level of personal is still tough. It's tough for him, too, sometimes, to think about how much he loves them all, how much he loves his life. He still finds it a bit crazy how they ever even got here. Geoff continues when Ryan doesn't speak.

“It's still hard sometimes. I feel guilty about it a lot. But it's getting better.” He finally looks back at Ryan and smiles. Ryan is choking on the harsh knot of anxiety still stuck in his throat, struggling to breath past the heaviness in his chest.

Jeremy's voice from the living room breaks the delicate moment.

“Ryan?”

He blinks rapidly a few times, pulling himself out of his head and back into reality. He grabs the cup and goes to leave the kitchen, but hesitates for a second, then hugs Geoff quickly, pulling away and hurrying off before the man can react.

The sight of Jeremy makes him groan. Apparently the slight boredom of waiting for Ryan was enough for the impatient boy to find other ways to entertain himself. His hands are stained with purple and orange marker, some even smeared around his mouth from his habit of chewing his fingers, leaving Ryan feeling pretty grateful they only get non-toxic markers. Jeremy grins and reaches for him.

“Ryan!”

Sighing, Ryan sets the cup on the table and hooks his hands under Jeremy's arms, lifting the boy up. Jeremy wraps around him and presses a sloppy kiss to his cheek, no doubt leaving a purple smear.

“You're a demon. An absolute fiend.”

“Bath?”

“Later, buddy. You're definitely about to wash your hands and face, though.”

Jeremy's whining has little effect on him after all this time. He carries the boy to the bathroom and sets him down in front of the sink, reaching around him to turn the water on. His chin is resting on top of Jeremy's head as he takes the boy's hands in his and guides them under the water. It's not too difficult to scrub away the purple and orange, thankfully, but Jeremy isn't happy when his face is cleaned next. Ryan can't help but chuckle at Jeremy's squirming.

“All done.” He says, stepping back, watching Jeremy look himself over in the mirror. That open curiosity followed by a bright grin. His chest feels funny, but it's that good feeling he's come to associate with spending time around his boy. He tries to ignore the layer of anxiety wrapped around that warm feeling, threatening to take it away, to make him realize how dumb he is for getting so invested.

It all just feels a bit off.

Taking care of Jeremy is relaxing, even when it involves experiments in body art via Crayola. In spite of popular belief, Ryan likes how he feels when he can help people, and he especially likes helping _his_ people. He was cautious back when it all begin. If it wasn't for Jeremy attaching himself to Ryan like some sort of cuddly symbiote, he probably would have continued to be cautious. But he's here now. And Jeremy's here now, leaning into him in the space of the bathroom with a thumb in his mouth and trust in his eyes. He hugs Jeremy tight, but he still doesn't feel right.

“You okay?”

And that doesn't help. Jeremy shouldn't be concerned about him. That isn't how this works.

“Yeah. You should probably go drink your juice before it gets warm.”

The redirection works, though Jeremy still looks slightly dubious as he follows Ryan back to the living room. Their spots on the couch have been taken by Gavin and Geoff, who are playing one of the older Halo games. He can't immediately tell which one. Jeremy leaves Ryan's side to squeeze in between the two, making them move over, ignoring the complaints. He grabs his cup off the table and curls into Gavin's side, watching the screen. Ryan takes the moment to go collect himself.

His feet move without any input from his brain and carry him upstairs. Once at the top of the landing, he hesitates. Has to think for a moment before he opens the door to the guest room and flips the light switch.

It's just him, a bed, and one of the older computers that's been retired to this room instead of somewhere it would get more use. He shuts the door behind him and sits at the desk, which has a fine layer of dust on it. As expected, the computer agreeably turns on when he tries it. Old doesn't mean shabby when it's in Geoff's place. Once the desktop is visible, he's sorta lost, not moving the mouse. Eventually he settles on YouTube, because it's not like he can get any actual work done on this setup. The clickhole can also take his mind off other things. He clicks on a random suggested video, turns on autoplay, and settles into the seat.

He's successful in some ways. Less so in others. His head hurts a little from staring at the screen, but the pain distracts him from the other troubling things in his head. Also, Finland doesn't exist, allegedly, and peppermint ramen tastes about as good as it sounds. The knock at the door makes him startle hard, whipping around to see who comes in.

Jack cracks the door open and peeks in. He looks… not happy? Is Jack angry at him? Part of his brain turns on and he has the sense to check the time.

Oh.

It's been eight hours.

“You missed dinner.” Jack says as he comes the rest of the way in the room and closes the door.

Ryan doesn't respond. He just watches Jack, confused as to how he's wasted so much time. The younger gent sighs.

“Listen. I totally understand if you need space, but you kind of just disappeared, you haven't been answering your phone, you didn't eat, and Geoff says you've been acting weird. You don't have to tell me anything. I'll respect your privacy, always. But if there's a way any of us can help, if you need someone to talk to, or if you're having a migraine, please know that we're here Ryan. You're always there for us. We can be there for you, too.”

He's barely breathing, frozen in place, eyes wide and looking like some cornered prey animal. His phone was ringing? And Geoff-- this isn't good. Suddenly, it feels like his stomach is trying to crawl out of his throat. Jack must see the way he goes pale, because the muted annoyance on his face quickly turns to concern. And now he _isn't_ breathing, doesn't think he can do that and try to process this at the same time, so busy trying to devise some sort of escape. He can't do this. He's not ready. But even as thoughts collide into one another, strings of useless ideas tripping over each other and tangling together in his brain, that overwhelming desire rises nearly to the surface.

Fuck, he _wants._

Wants to cry. Wants to scream. Wants to feel every single thing as openly as possible and be guided through it in ways he's never been before, ways he didn't know you could be, not until he met his people. His people, like Jack; with the soft tones, strong arms, and playful affection. He wants to pitch a fit like Gavin when he doesn't get his way. He wants to feel the way Michael feels when Geoff brushes his hair. He wants to get lost in that soft simple world Jeremy slides into so easily.

But he can't have what he wants, because the others rely on him. They need him to be dependable and capable. That's why he was brought on in the first place. That's why he's here now. Right?

“Shit. Ryan, come on, breathe buddy. Please breathe. You're gonna pass out, Ryan, you need to breathe.”

There are hands on his shoulders. A face in his. Jack. Jack's talking to him, shaking him gently, telling him to--

He breathes in, harsh and ragged, nearly choking on the exhale. His second breath is hitched by a sob that rips from his chest out of seemingly nowhere and makes him suddenly aware of the tears streaming down his face. He's crying. Weird. It almost doesn't feel like he is. Like he's watching himself cry, hearing himself sob, but he isn't actually there.

“Yes, good, just like that. Come on, keep breathing. In; two, three, four. Out; two, three, four. Good job, Ryan, just breathe with me. It's okay.”

It isn't.

He isn't.

But he follows along anyway and he's rewarded by gentle fingers combing through his hair and scratching at his scalp. Then a hug. It doesn't feel real, for a moment, but then Jack starts to him and he falls back into his own body, every point of contact between the two serving as a lifeline.

The world seemingly pauses. Things click a bit. Then it all starts again, and Ryan falls apart.

He shoves his entire body into the hug, hands scrabbling at Jack's back before finding purchase and winding tight fists into the man's shirt. The sobbing is tenfold as tears pour out of him. He can't make it stop, doesn't really want to, but he's at least still breathing. In between sobs he mumbles things, but his face is buried in Jack's neck and the words are mostly turned to nonsense with the occasional apology and name slipping through.

“It's okay. You're okay. Cry it out, pal, it's fine. I've got you. I'm not going anywhere without you.”

Jack's words calm him some, but the crying and shaking doesn't stop, and the man's sturdy arms are all that's holding Ryan's wobbling parts together. He tries to hug Jack tighter, desperate for the touch and terrified that the slightest slip in his grip might send him spiraling away from him. No part of him is willing to risk it, even the more logical ones, which are mostly drowned out by his hysterics.

It's not long before he physically can't cry anymore. His chest and throat are sore from the exertion and his eyes feel like they're on fire. Even his arms are going somewhat slack, muscles quivering as he tries to keep his tight grip. He's light-headed, too.

A hand gently presses against his chest, making him lean away slightly. The small distance feels like too much, but Jack's sympathetic smile is a half decent trade.

“Hey buddy. Wanna go lay down?”

He nods without a second thought and feels warmth seep through his skin where Jack kisses his forehead. Then he's pulled out of the chair and off the ground entirely. He doesn't have the strength to do much more than just accept the handling. Jack carries him out of the room and into the one next door. Geoff's room. Familiar. He doesn't care enough to think about last time he was carried here, disregarding the similarities in favor of focusing on the present. The present being that he's hungry, tired, and he feels gross. As soon as he's set on the bed, he whines and rubs his runny nose with his hoodie sleeve. Jack grimaces.

“I'm gonna grab some stuff so we can get that gunk off your face, sweetheart. I'll be right back.”

Ryan answers him with a nervous look, but he doesn't immediately fall apart again. He watches Jack go into the master bathroom. The man is back a moment later, holding a wet washcloth for the second time today. Ryan tries his best to hold still while his face is cleaned. Figures he probably does better than Jeremy, at least.

“There's my Ryan.” Jack says when he's done, with a smile and another kiss to his forehead, laughing lightly at Ryan's blush.

His heart rate skyrockets when the door opens, but the sight of Geoff is immediately a relief. The man is holding a plate of what Ryan assumes is his dinner. He smiles at Ryan.

“Hey little dude. Heard you skipped dinner. You hungry?”

“Y-yeah.” He winces at his strained voice.

It's almost too easy after that. He finds himself sitting between Geoff's legs on the bed, leaning back against his chest. The meatloaf has been cut up for him, but he still only picks at the food. He's too nervous to speak up, but thankfully Geoff is a perceptive sort of fellow. He gently takes the fork out of Ryan's hand. Ryan almost wants to bolt when Geoff holds a piece of meatloaf in front of his mouth, the temptation to escape calling him, but he calms himself and carefully eats off the fork. It continues on, simple and quiet. Geoff eventually switches to the mashed potatoes and before long the plate is empty. A soft kiss is pressed to his temple, followed by Geoff's gentle praise.

“Good job, Rye. We can get changed and get some sleep now, if you want.”

He has to think about it. Jack takes the plate from his lap and disappears from the room. He's tired. He's still mostly exhausted from the crying. But part of him balks at the idea of going to bed. His voice is quiet, hesitant, and admittedly still terrified on some level.

“... Do you wanna play?”

Geoff grins.

“Absolutely, Rye.”


End file.
